


No Second Chances

by Lady_Therion



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: Cue all the angst, F/M, Jurdan in the modern world, Post-The Wicked King
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 12:30:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21476041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Therion/pseuds/Lady_Therion
Summary: In which Jude finds Cardan in the place she least expects.
Relationships: Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar
Kudos: 164





	No Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

> Queen of Nothing is almost here, so I thought I would add one more quick Jurdan fic before we all dive into the finale *internal screaming*.

_ It’s just a party_, Jude told herself. 

Granted, the last few parties she’d been to ended in bloodshed and betrayal. This was the mortal world. A world of plastic cups, online shopping, and the South Beach diet. The rules were different here and, until recently, Jude had no interest in learning them. 

She could almost hear Madoc admonishing her. _ Rethink your strategy, _ he would say. _ Adapt to your new surroundings, see what advantages it can reap, then pick the ones that will bring your heart’s desires to fruition_. But what was her heart’s desire? A year ago, she would have said that she wanted a place at Court. To earn her way there. To have the Gentry recognize her as an equal. Foolish. She had been so foolish. 

Now all she wished was to become a kingslayer. But that wasn’t exactly job application material. 

_ Do whatever_, said Vivi. _ Burn the Court. Steal the crown. Just get off the couch, Queen Jude. _

Queen Jude. The words felt like poison in her mouth.

“Hey. Wanna dance?” 

The mortal...the _ person _who asked was a girl who stood about a head taller than her. Red hair. Freckles. Black lipstick. At her throat was a choker with a heart-shaped crystal. Her smile was sincere, disarming. It reminded her of Locke. And Taryn. Jude fought an urge to break glass. 

“Sure,” she said, and let the girl lead her into the crowd. 

Parties in the mortal world were different from the revels in Elfhame. Here, she wouldn’t have to worry about glamours or wraithberries. Instead, all she had to worry about was Instagram and Rohypnol. 

Maybe their worlds weren’t so different after all. 

But the dancing—the dancing wasn’t the same. There were no bows or curtsies or intricate waltzing. Instead it was a slide between bodies and hair and sweat. Jude stumbled to the heavy bass and electronic beats blasting their way into her ribcage. She felt stiff and hyper aware of her inadequacies. Every gesture, every breath, told her that she didn’t belong here. 

Jude didn’t belong anywhere. 

The redheaded girl didn’t ask any questions. She only pulled her close. Jude found the contact...surprising. There was no peril here. No hidden motive. Nothing beyond the yearning to have a good time. How long had it been since Jude had felt something so simple? But at the heels of that discovery was this: that Jude was more alone than ever, that she had spent her whole life winnowing in and out of dangerous intrigues. And now that she didn’t have to, the absence of that thrill guttered her out like a candle. 

It was pretty fucked up.

The girl leaned in to the shell of her ear. “I’m Ruby. What’s your name?” 

“I’m…” 

A prickling sensation, like a thorn drilling into her gut. Her eyes scanned the floor. And the balcony above. 

_ There. _

How long had he been watching her with those oil-dark eyes? Eyes that haunted every dream and every nightmare since her banishment? He stood there almost lazily, in full royal regalia, his crown gleaming and crooked while mortals walked around him the way a river parts before a stone. They probably didn’t even know he was there, tail lashing out in the open. 

“Cardan.” 

“Your name is Cardan?” 

“Excuse me.” 

Her vision narrowed until she reached him. For a moment, she wondered if this was just an apparition. She had those occasionally. One time she thought she saw Taryn buying coffee at Starbucks. Another time she thought Valerian was waiting at a bus stop, his clothes still soiled from the paddock, where she buried him. But the closer she got to the High King, the more crystallized he became. 

He looked...she didn’t know how she expected him to look. Haggard. Haunted, maybe. Instead, he was cold and indifferent. Like he was staring at a piece of furniture. Not the girl he had chosen as his queen. His countenance wasn’t unlike that day she left Faerie. She could still see him there on that distant shore, the author of her greatest humiliation. The memory of his laughter made her grit her teeth. Were they in Elfhame, she would reach for the nearest sword and make him kneel. Make him beg. Make him feel every bit as degraded as she did the moment Madoc had taken her and her sisters away from her parents’ house. 

But they weren’t in Elfhame. And the rules were different here. 

“Hello, Jude.” 

He raised a hand that shimmered with a number of gaudy rings. The soft green velvet of his doublet stood in stark contrast with the club’s sharp angles and cubic design. It was like finding a flower in the asphalt. He didn’t belong here any more than she did, and her jagged heart relished that fact.

“I renounce my vows,” she told him. “I no longer wish to be married to you. I no longer wish to be your wife.” She breathed deep, as though she were casting a curse. “I renounce my vows and release you from them, High King of Elfhame, sixth son of Eldred, Cardan Greenbriar.” 

Silence followed. True silence. The entire club went deathly quiet as every mortal stood as still as statues, as though frozen in time. Jude clenched her fists. Who knew how much more powerful Cardan had become since raising Insear from the sea? She didn’t want to wait to find out. 

“Obviously, we need to talk,” he said, expression unreadable. “But first: Can I ask you a question?” 

“You can piss right the fuck off—” 

“Have you ever been to Target?”

* * *

One extremely awkward bus ride later found the two of them in the boy’s and men’s department. Cardan began sifting through the racks, paying particular attention to the skinny acid wash jeans and tight graphic tees. Jude watched him like a hawk, getting antsy as he took his time. What was his game? What did he want? 

“What do you think?” He held up two T-shirts: One had a Marvel print and the other had a house sigil from Game of Thrones. “I’ve heard these are very popular mythologies here in the mortal world. Do you know of them?” 

She shrugged, willing him to reveal whatever nefarious plot he had in store. “I didn’t exactly have loads of time to watch television while living in Faerie.” 

“But you do now,” he said. “As an exile.” 

There was no sting in his words. No sneer. He talked as if the events that led to her disgrace were minor inconveniences. And perhaps to a king, they were. 

“Are you here to kill me?” She whispered. “If you are, just so you know: I’m not afraid of you. I’ve _ never _ been afraid of you.” It was a lie, but right here, under the fluorescent lights while 90’s pop hits discreetly played in the background, the lie felt incredibly true. “I’m done with you and I’m done with Faerie. Find a new queen. Fight a new war. Live your immortal life and leave me out of it_. _” 

“Oh Jude,” he whispered, the cadence low and sweet. A smile as delicate as dusk graced his face. “You are such a terrible _ liar. _” 

“Hey there. Just a head’s up that we’re closing in five.” The store associate glanced between them. “Want me to ring that up for you?” 

“I do,” said Cardan cheerily. 

Of course, he would go for Game of Thrones. 

* * *

“Mortal economics are fascinating,” said Cardan. “Noggle should expand his curriculum.” 

“Please go home now.” 

He had been following her in his ridiculously mortal clothes through the town’s central park, completely undeterred by the fact that Jude had been glaring at him like he was vermin the entire time. 

“But I have more questions,” he said. 

“So Google them.” 

“What’s Google?” 

She paused by the fountain, which had been turned off for the season. “What part of ‘I renounce my vows’ needs clarification? I was very specific. Get lost.” 

“Is that what your mother said to Madoc? When she left him for that other mortal?” 

The crunch of his nose breaking under her fist was one of the most satisfying things Jude had felt in a long while. It was almost as good as an orgasm. But the night was young and she was just getting started. “Don’t talk about my family. Ever. You, of all people—”

Cardan wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand. It wouldn’t take long for him to heal. He was Fae. The bones and flesh were probably knitting together as they spoke. “You killed my brother. You entered Dain’s service. You played your part in a chain of events that helped ignite a civil war. You only know violence. You only know retribution. A redcap’s true daughter.” 

Red bled into her vision. “You—” 

He kissed her, cradling her face, blood and all. Jude collided with him and sank into it, ignoring the sweeping sense of relief as their lips glided over one another. Their touch was hot and desperate. It was mad. The maddest thing they ever did, and yet they were completely and utterly _ delirious _with pleasure. Did others feel this way when they...came together like this? Jude couldn’t imagine it. How would anyone get anything done? They wouldn’t be able to. Not with this merciless, carnal desire tearing through them. 

And this was just kissing.

“What was the name of the mortal girl you were dancing with?” 

“What?” He was being very distracting, especially with whatever sinful thing he was doing with her earlobe. Was the spot on his neck still…? 

“_ Yes _,” he sighed as she bit down, leaving a mark to remember her by. “The girl with the red hair...is she…?” 

“No talking.” 

So they didn’t talk. Instead, she led him into the dark, into the trees, where it was just the two of them and their warring hearts. At some point, Jude’s top came off and so did Cardan’s. This wasn’t Faerie. Anyone could walk by and interrupt this blazing wildfire between them. And gods above, she wished they would. She wished she could stop the way his fingers grazed her sides, the tops of her breasts, and the space beneath her skirt. She wished they could stop his moans, her mewls, her scratching the skin of his back. She wished they could stop the way he leaned her gently against the trunk of the tree, saying things that made her eyes burn. Things like, “I cannot stop thinking of you” and “I just needed to see you” and worse still: “When will you stop being afraid of me, Jude?” 

“Never,” she said. “I’ll always be afraid of you.” 

“Why?”

“Because I hate you,” she said, and he kissed her again, deeply, piercingly, as though he could deal a killing blow with it. “I can’t be with you and I can’t let you go. And I don’t think I can ever forgive you for it. So renounce me. Release me. Free us both.” 

He stilled beneath her. “I...cannot.” 

Jude froze. “Why?” 

“I can’t tell you why. But there is a reason why I made _ you _ my queen, Jude. And the sooner you unravel this tangled web you weaved, the sooner we can _ both _ be free. Now,” he said, lifting up her skirt and skimming the band of her panties. “It’s _ your _ turn to stop talking.” 


End file.
